I’ve forgotten how to do this–how to wake up in the morning and write instead of rushing off to work, instead of falling back to sleep on the couch, instead of reading endless posts on social media about the demise of our world since the election of Trump. But the rain washed all the snow away and the sadness of that has caused me to pause and ponder why the rain came, why the snow left, and why I’m stuck in this rut of lethargy.
Three weeks ago we had record snow. Every morning I awoke to several new inches that needed shoveling. We removed just enough snow for one car to move in and out of our driveway. And I was tired at the end of every day. People slid off the road into drifts, unable to extract themselves. Every day that I drove to work I increased my risk. We’d become bumper cars at Lagoon. So by Thursday of that snowy week I watched the inevitable happen in slow motion on the corner of Tyler and 30th. The tears of the OHS senior who slid into my two-month old Prius reminded me to act like an adult: “It’s only the bumper, no one was hurt, please don’t worry.”
Now only remnants of the three feet of whiteness. Green grass, dog poop, bits of garbage revealed. It happens every year–the February melt–but it never fails to unnerve me. I’m not ready to emerge. I still lack energy.
In January, So to Speak published Three Shorts. I was glad to have the “Waste” piece out at last. But what other writing have I done? The piece on Jake moving out, in August. Long time ago now. My baby girl turned 17. My son will be 19 next week. I work, I sleep, I read/watch stuff. Henry ages faster than time slips. Am I prepared for his demise? I will take him walking today.
And I still miss Bubba….